We All Might Fall
by romancerevival
Summary: "The course of true love never did run smooth." The ups, downs, firsts, and lasts of the inferno that is Damon and Elena, told through her eyes.
1. Chapter 1

**Here I am again! I'm sticking to canon for the most part here, except for toward the end when I'll probably add some original "firsts" in there. Basically here I'm highlighting the key points in the progressions (and regressions?) of Damon and Elena's relationship, all from Elena's POV, in groups of 3 scenes per chapter. I'll be doing this all the way up through the season 2 finale, and then adding in my own pieces to the story. And who knows – if this goes over well, maybe I'll write a companion fic doing it from Damon's POV. So, without further delay, here is my take (through Elena's eyes) of the ups, downs, forwards, backs, firsts, and lasts of the "something" that Damon and Elena have. **

… … …

The first time Elena Gilbert met Damon Salvatore, something inside her shifted. Settled into place. She never would've guessed that Stefan had an older brother that was so completely _different _from himself. Different from anyone else. She had been blinded by new love, and at that moment had still considered Stefan the handsomer of the two. But even then, she had been struck by the iridescent, icy blue of his eyes. Ice that seemed opaque, emotionless in one moment; and in another, completely warm, liquid, and feeling – as if all of the hardness had melted out. When he first looked at her, with such intense curiosity, she had wanted to close her eyes. If she left them open, she was afraid he would see her – _really_ see her – and that scared her. She couldn't let it happen. But then he welcomed her with such ease, such nonchalance… she couldn't help but push her fear away and feel comfortable around him too. As comfortable as she could be, anyways. But something in his manner (or maybe only his eyes) kept her on her toes…put her on edge. The contrasting instincts were almost too much.

Then Stefan showed up. The tension in the room told her that there was something indescribably wrong between the brothers, and yet Damon kept up his witty running commentary effortlessly. He was the one born with the lighter heart, she thought. In truth, it was the stronger one; that she would realize in the many months that followed. When he kissed her hand in farewell, she knew she should be rolling her eyes at such a move. He had to be a tool. His eyes glinted, as if they were steel, and she turned to walk away; past Stefan, who barely acknowledged her. Her anger toward Stefan was at the forefront of her mind, but underneath, intrigue for his older brother simmered through her veins. She ducked her head as she walked back to her car, clenching her fist as the imprint of a kiss burned into the back of her hand.

… … …

The first time she ever saw the real Damon Salvatore, Elena didn't understand what had been right before her eyes.

She had been folding placemats, cleaning up the remainder of a tense dinner party, and he had been following her around the kitchen, helping her with miscellaneous chores and keeping up a conversation. She had been more than a little surprised when he told her to quit cheerleading; mainly because she had wanted to do exactly that ever since pulling on her shorts and tying her hair back, before her first practice had even started. And here he was, almost a complete stranger, older than the rest of them and so unlike anyone she knew – reading her like a book. He had been the only one to realize how she really felt, and she knew him the least of anyone around her. She knew that looking into his eyes had been a mistake; they really could see right through her. It scared her even more that she could look right back into those pools of blue and not be able to decipher a thing herself – only a shield. She looked back up, hearing him advise her again to do what she wanted and quit cheerleading.

"Some things could matter again," she reasoned, sending him an open look.

"Maybe," he allowed her, "but it seems a little unrealistic to me." As he spoke, Elena thought his expression almost seemed…regretful. Earnest. A look that wore strangely on a face that she was so used to seeing as lively and sharp. Suddenly, she got the feeling that he wasn't entirely talking about cheerleading anymore. He was talking about something…deeper. Something inside of him that she couldn't begin to grasp. Feeling the serious turn of the conversation, she wanted to say something, anything, to comfort him. To show that she didn't take his words lightly.

"I'm sorry," she said in a low voice, tucking her hair behind her right ear. Damon's eyes shifted from side to side in confusion, his eyebrows puckering upward in the middle. "About Katherine," she clarified, inclining her head toward him. Damon's eyebrows fell, his eyes growing slightly wider as he sat up, blinking rapidly and taken aback. He didn't speak, and Elena continued.

"You lost her too."

For a split second, Elena saw the shield fall from his eyes as he was taken off guard. His lips came together, and his head tilted slightly. He still remained silent, and Elena realized that he looked like a lost little boy; one who had not received nor expected kindness for a long time. Compassion flooded her, realizing she had hit a nerve somewhere deep inside this seeming man of steel. She didn't rip her eyes away from his until Bonnie walked into the kitchen, offering her help. As if a wire had snapped, Elena and Damon tore themselves from the moment simultaneously, turning toward the intruder with polite expressions. As if some part of the two of them was inexplicably synchronized. She glanced sideways at him, and knew that the shield in his eyes was back up, their connection broken.

She didn't know what exactly had just passed between them, but she couldn't help replaying the scene in her mind like a broken record. There was definitely more to this brother than meets the eye, and she had a hollow, sinking feeling that it was nothing like the witty, devil-may-care façade that he put on. No – it was something entirely different; it was something heartbreaking.

… … …

The first time Elena realized Damon was bad news was when she found the bite marks on Caroline's back and neck at the founder's party. It rocked her to the core; she couldn't even _imagine _a person abusing someone in such an animalistic way (she would later shake her head at such a completely naïve reaction). Caroline and she hadn't always gotten along so well, but Elena couldn't stand by and let that happen to _anyone_, much less a friend she'd known since she was little. Anger roiled up inside of her, and she marched down the Lockwoods' steps, giving Damon a furious shove and nearly walking right through him. The smirk immediately fell from his face, and he slid down a step, looking bewildered and a bit alarmed; if she hadn't been so enraged, she might have felt self-satisfied at this (if only she'd known, then, that he easily could have ripped her head from her shoulders in half a second).

"There is something seriously _wrong _with you," she informed him lividly. "You stay away from Caroline, or I will go straight to her mother, the _sheriff_." Elena's voice sounded threatening in her own ears, and her eyes flickered to his own icy, intrigued, and somehow bemused ones; she stepped around him, and those eyes followed her. "Got it? Stay _away_ from her." Elena very nearly sneered, walking away. She'd accomplished exactly what she wanted to – needed to – and yet she hadn't gone a hundred feet from him when she paused, closing her eyes and feeling the cool night air dance across her flushed cheeks. Behind her eyes, images rushed forward of him apologizing for his rude behavior at the football game and telling her about his tragic ancestral (personal) history with Mystic Falls. His voice filled her head, telling her that he hoped he worked things out with his brother too. Then one thing he had said struck her, echoing through her mind and pitting in her stomach:

_"Doesn't it always come down to the love of a woman?"_

She could see in his eyes when he said that, that he was admitting a great weakness, a vulnerability of his. She could feel that he really meant what he was saying here, not like the light, mock-sincerity of every other word he spoke. The look on his face then when he bowed his head, his eyebrows lifting in the middle and somehow enhancing the sadness in his eyes, tugged at her chest now, even in her anger. She didn't know how a man with such a face could do such terrible things to her friend; to _any_ girl. She couldn't help but both pity and hate him simultaneously, her reasonable side attacking her emotions for feeling anything for him at all. He was an enigma – one she knew would probably be disastrous to untangle, but one that she couldn't stop thinking of, all the same.

She opened her eyes and continued walking, looking for answers, for safety – for Stefan.

… … …

** And that's that! Scenes from this chapter were from the episodes "Night of the Comet" (1x02), "Friday Night Bites" (1x03), and**** "Family Ties" (1x04). Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review to let me know if I should keep going or not! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, I know the wait for this chapter was a bit prolonged, but I have been incredibly busy with the holiday weekend, and I've been trying to get an actual story going that takes up after the season 2 finale. To make up for it, I made this one quite a bit longer than last chapter, I hope that suits you all! Off we go then.**

… … …

The first time Elena was afraid of Damon was when he showed up at her front door the night Vicki was turned into a vampire. A cold chill had swirled through her veins as she tried in vain to shut the door in his face; his supernatural strength stopping her effortlessly. She knew everything now (or so she thought at the time) – she knew he was a vampire. A tried-and-true, cold-blooded murdering one, at that; he wasn't like his brother. Gritting her teeth, she ordered Jeremy to go upstairs; and for once, he miraculously obeyed.

"You're afraid of me," Damon remarked in an amused voice, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. He turned his chin to one side jauntily, and Elena couldn't bring herself to confirm his observation. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and guess…Stefan finally fessed up." Elena could practically hear the satisfied smirk in his voice. Infuriated at his flippancy, her trembling hand suddenly clenched at her side.

"Stay _away_ from me," she ground out, nearly shaking with a dreadful blend of fear and loathing.

"Hey hey hey, there's no need to be rude; I'm just looking for Stefan," he informed her in a lilting voice, his manner nonchalant. "May I come in?" he asked pleasantly, pointing a finger past her. "Oh wait – of course I can. I've been invited." A lascivious grin crept onto his face as he stepped past her and into the house. She shuddered inwardly as his feet crossed the threshold. She realized now more than ever that he was more of a loose cannon than she ever could have imagined. He was unpredictable, dangerous, gifted (or maybe cursed) with superhuman abilities, and completely devoid of a conscience (at least, that was what she was led to believe for a very long time). He had problem with killing Vicki, so what would hold him back from doing the same to her or anyone else she knew?

He walked around her home as if he owned it, and her hatred for him heightened by the second.

"We can cut to the chase if you want; I'm not gonna kill you right now." He turned to face her, crossing his arms. "That wouldn't serve my greater agenda." He exhaled, rolling his eyes as if he were speaking of the weather and not her very life. "So," he continued, inclining his head toward her, his tone immediately taking on a more serious, threatening air. "Where's Stefan?" His blazing blue eyes flashed at her, and she wanted to slap herself by her continuing fascination with them. Shaking herself inwardly, the words about to escape her lips renewed her anger, and she put all of the steel in her tone that she could muster.

"He's out looking for Vicki," she sneered, making it clear that she knew what he did and letting him know _exactly _how she felt about it. Damon rolled his eyes again in annoyance.

"Don't look at me with those judgy little eyes," he drawled sardonically, stepping forward and consciously backing her into a corner. Elena stumbled backward, bristling, but did not fail to meet his gaze unwaveringly as his face drew close to hers. "That girl's gonna thank me for what I did to her," he said in an amazingly self-assured voice, a smirk tugging at his lips once more.

"Did you thank Katherine?" Elena asked boldly, and as the smirk fell from his face, she knew she had him. He looked down, his eyes almost closed for a moment, before a ghost of a grimace wrinkled his face and he took a step back. Elena got a fleeting feeling that there was more to the story than what she had been told, but she refused to let her mind give him any leeway. He turned and walked away, and her chest heaved; she hadn't realized until he was across the room that she had been holding her breath, tensing at his dizzying proximity.

"Got the whole life story, huh?" he asked, his tone back to its casual lightness.

"I got enough," she replied darkly, still breathing a bit heavily.

"Oh, I doubt that," he commented, facing away from her, his tone cool and disbelieving. It made her uncomfortable, yet a curiosity stirred in her chaotic mind.

"Tell my brother I'm looking for him," he instructed her, dislodging her unsettled thoughts from within her and heading for her front door, tossing her a brief, crooked smile before swinging it open and disappearing behind it. Just before it shut, he poked his dark, disheveled head back in, looking up at her with live-wire eyes. "Oh, tip, for later: be careful who you invite in the house." His warning made her heart thud in alarm, and it skipped as he flashed her a faint smile one last time before shutting the door and disappearing into the night. Her chest unclenched, the butterflies flapping around in her stomach feeling as if they were made of hot coals. The absolute _unrealness_ of the day had her in knots, and Damon had twisted them even tighter. She felt as if she were physically glowing, her fury and terror alternately emanating from her hot skin. Damon's entire person was captivating; a part of her couldn't tear her eyes away, while a big part of her dying to run as far from him as possible. He was the most dangerous mystery of a person she had ever met in her life; and while he intrigued her, he also scared her to death. And he'd killed so many people…forced so many people into a world they'd never wanted any part of; the thought alone made her stomach turn over. She knew he needed to leave her hometown and never come back if she ever wanted to sleep peacefully at night again; she knew that she should hate him – and she did. But much to her dismay, there was a part of her – an inexplicable, ridiculous, selfish part of her – that wanted to know more.

… … …

The first time Elena realized that Damon respected her was when he'd offered to help her with something his brother could not – with something that did not benefit him in the slightest, yet something he had not even been asked or expected to do.

Her world had been shaken yet again when she had watched Stefan drive a stake into Vicki Donovan's heart; she had known Vicki for what felt like forever and suddenly…suddenly…she was gone. She had been a bloodthirsty, uncontrollable monster, trying to drain her brother and attack Elena. Stefan had been the one to finally still the panic; to end Vicki. Beaten with fatigue, Elena drove herself home, unable to forget the worried look on Matt's face. Her side throbbed, her ripped nurse costume caked in dried blood. She had never felt nearer to a collapse, and yet when she walked into Jeremy's room, she knew she couldn't. Their night wasn't over, not by a long shot.

Her brother kept on losing so many people – his parents, the girl he'd always wanted – they were gone away from him, never to come back. Elena's heart squeezed mercilessly at the raw look of pain and confusion on his face, shining with tears. She tried to comfort him as best she could, but she knew that nothing she did would be enough. She returned to the porch, asking Stefan if there was a way that he could make Jeremy forget his hurt somehow. She tugged her blanket closer to her, and by the look on his face, she could see Stefan's answer before she finished asking. She pleaded with him, and he shook his head solemnly, his ever-furrowed brows drawing even closer together. He told her that he couldn't make it work, because of the way he lived; and for a fleeting second, Elena wished that he wasn't so goddamn noble – but only for a second. Tears pricked at her tired eyes, and she tried to accept that there was nothing to be done for her brother, when a calm voice interrupted from behind.

"I can do it," he announced, and Stefan looked up with an unreadable expression. Elena slowly turned to see Damon walking toward them, his jacket hanging open to reveal his thin white t-shirt, his arms swinging at his sides. "If it's what you want, I'll do it."

Through all of her exhaustion, faint surprise nudged at Elena's heart. The last time she'd seen Damon, a few hours ago, he had been discussing the disposal of Vicki's body flippantly to her, reminding her that none of this mattered to him. She had slapped him as hard as she could, telling him in every way she could that everything was his fault, and that it _did_ matter. In return, he merely told her to leave, sharpness edging through his smooth voice. So she had left him.

But now, he was back. Why he had been anywhere near her porch would usually have worried her, but she had been through too much tonight to care. He was offering his help to her for the first time since she'd met him, and she loved her brother so much that she'd be damned to refuse his offer now. She turned to Stefan, her jaw set.

"It's what I want."

Stefan nodded in submission, and she turned to face the other Salvatore once more.

"What do you want him to know?" he asked, leaning toward her, his eyes unusually devoid of contempt or malice. His face softened, and his head tilted to one side, his gentle gaze unwavering.

"I want you to tell him," Elena instructed in a shaking voice, "that Vicki left town – and she's not coming back. That he shouldn't look for her-" Damon's attentive gaze never faltered, and she couldn't look away, as if her eyes were locked in place. "Or worry about her. He's gonna miss her but he knows it's for the best." Her voice wavered at her last few words, and he gave her a slight, serious nod before leaving her, disappearing past the door.

A minute or two later, he quietly emerged from the house, giving her a long sideways glance. "It's done," he said softly, almost reverently, only to her. She couldn't bring herself to thank him; his righting of one wrong didn't mean any of it never happened. She abruptly rose, disappearing into the once-safe haven of her home. She felt his eyes on her back until she shut the door, blocking out the rest of the world. Leaning against the doorframe, she closed her eyes, trying to push away the dull ache behind her eyes. In those brief moments, something had changed between Damon and herself. She hadn't expected it; wasn't even sure she wanted anything to do with him, even now – but something had been altered on his part, there was no doubt. He never would have helped her with Jeremy before. He didn't give a damn about her, much less Jeremy…but he'd stepped in unbidden, all the same. Maybe he respected that she'd confronted him about what he'd been doing; maybe it was his sick way of apologizing. She would never know, and right now she didn't want to think about it – she didn't want to think about anything. She dragged herself up the stairs, clinging to the banister like a lifeline, to check on her brother once more.

… … …

The first time Elena saved Damon's life, she wasn't entirely sure why she did it. All she knew is that she couldn't let him die, not like that. After all, she did sort of owe him one. He had pulled her from her overturned car and carried her to safety just in the nick of time on the dark highway haunted by a lurking vampire.

When she woke up in the car with him, she knew she should be alarmed. The last time she'd seen him, he had been distraught _and _tried to kill her best friend to boot. But then, she was more upset about the fact that she was in Georgia than the fact that she was alone with him. And that moment when she had stepped out of his car and groaned in pain at her sore muscles, he had been at her side faster than she could blink, his hand at her elbow, an atypical look of genuine concern etched across his features. What was that about? What was she to him? But then his easy, sarcastic manner returned, his eyes unreachable once more. He told her to take a timeout, - for five minutes - and for some reason, not even sure she could trust him at the time, she agreed.

When she was eating with him at Bree's bar, the conversation flowed between them effortlessly, and she ironically felt uneasy when she realized how comfortable she felt around him then. He didn't hold back, and she didn't feel the need to either. For a moment, he almost seemed like a normal, friendly human being, as opposed to the ruthless, calculating, selfish vampire she felt she knew him to be. And in that instant, she realized that she didn't mind his company – not one bit.

She had been outside, taking a call from Stefan; he was desperate to explain Katherine to her, but she didn't want to hear it. He'd lied to her, and she'd practically fallen into bed with him, unbeknownst to her that such an experience with her specifically wouldn't exactly be…_new_ to him. Her mood immediately soured, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned, almost bumping noses with Damon.

"You okay?" he asked, his dark brows drawing together over his curious eyes.

"Don't pretend to care," she muttered, her tone bitter. "I know you're gloating inside." He honestly seemed taken aback at the suggestion, and as she walked away from him, she almost regretted what she said.

Later, maybe for her own desire to let loose, or maybe because she wanted to make up for her rude behavior earlier, she agreed to do shots with Damon and the rest of the bar. She always could hold her liquor better than her friends, and she pleased to discover that she hadn't lost her touch. Before she knew it, she was drunk. She was laughing. She had almost forgotten what laughing felt like, and she took another shot, not wanting to stop. She grinned when she found that Damon was impressed by her drinking abilities, triumphant that _she _had actually surprised _him _for once. She used to know how to be fun, and with Damon, (who in her inebriated state she had to admit was _far_ less broody than Stefan) she found that she could again. All dark thoughts of the misery he had caused since he showed up in her town evaporated from her mind, and she smiled at him, grinning wider when he smiled back.

Her giddy mood vanished when the night took a turn for the worse; being kidnapped by a vengeful vampire to be used as bait didn't exactly fall under her idea of a nice time. When she saw Damon round the corner, her stomach knotted, dread rising in her throat like bile. This couldn't end well, and she panicked inwardly.

"Damon, no!" he turned to her, and the other vampire attacked him from behind, bringing him down. Elena regretted making any noise and climbed down from her perch, running toward the fight. The vampire had beaten Damon repeatedly, and was now drenching him in kerosene while he was down and out. She had to stop this; she couldn't let the man light the match.

"Who _are _you?" Damon ground out, the veins in his neck protruding as he scrambled to sit up.

"That's perfect," the vampire said painfully. "You have no idea."

"What are you talking about?" Elena shouted, doing anything to buy time. "What did he do?"

"He killed my girlfriend," the man said in a low voice, and in a fresh burst of anger, he continued to douse Damon in kerosene. "What did she do to you, huh? _What did she do to you?_" His screams were riddled with fury and hurt, and he stepped back, breathing heavily.

"Nothin,'" Damon barely managed to utter, rolling onto his side.

"I don't understand," Elena cried, sounding stupid in her own ears as she tried to stall.

"My girlfriend went to visit _Stefan,_" he growled at her, his eyes livid. "And _Damon _killed her, got it?"

"Lexi?" Elena whispered, realization dawning on her. "Lexi was your girlfriend? She told me about you she said – that you were human?"

A beat passed between them, and the vampire's voice was softer when he spoke.

"I was."

"Lexi turned you?" Elena asked hurriedly, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she glanced toward the ground at Damon.

"You wanna be with someone forever, you have to live forever," he revealed, his expression grim. Damon struggled on the ground, and the vampire kicked him forcefully, drawing a loud groan of pain from behind his clenched teeth. Elena's mind raced almost as quickly as her heart, knowing she had to think of something fast.

"She loved you," Elena blurted out, trying to remember her conversation with Lexi those weeks ago. "She said…that when it's real, you can't walk away."

"Well that's a choice you're not gonna have to make," he spat, and she realized that he assumed she was trying to save Damon because she loved him. Correcting him on this point was so unimportant at the moment that she didn't even stop to consider it, plowing on mindlessly instead.

"Don't, don't, _please_ don't hurt him!" she begged, stepping forward. The vampire lit the match, not heeding her pleas.

"I'm doing you a favor," he said, stepping over Damon.

"Lexi loved you," Elena said, shaking her head, knowing this was her last chance to save Damon. "She was good, and that means you're good, too. Be better than him." She sighed inwardly with relief when she realized she had finally gotten his attention, distracting him from his plan. "Don't do this, I'm begging you! _Please!" _

Grimacing, the vampire put out the match and yanked Damon to his feet. With a final glare, he threw him against the side of the building, panting as he watched Damon moan in pain on the concrete.

"Thank you," Elena gasped, entirely shocked that she had actually talked him out of murder.

"It wasn't for you," the vampire whispered, and Elena noticed that tears shone in his eyes, lighting up his grieving face; but then he was gone. Elena immediately ran across the dark pavement, kneeling alongside Damon under the yellow glow of the streetlight. Damon rolled over to face her, his bright blue eyes dimmed in pain.

"It's gonna be alright," she whispered, brushing his sticky hair from his forehead. "Let's go home, okay?" His eyes searched hers for a moment, and she couldn't imagine what he was looking for. A second passed, and his eyes fell shut, a crooked half-grin, half-grimace twisting at his lips.

"I smell awful," he groaned, coughing slightly.

"Can't disagree with you there," she said quietly, a smile threatening to appear on her face in relief. "Fuel doesn't exactly turn me on."

"Oh, then what does?" he asked, light returning to his eyes as his wounds began to heal.

"You're impossible!" she groaned, rolling her eyes and standing up to walk away. She heard him shrug to his feet behind her, and she could practically hear him smirking. She was at least comforted to know that he was fine enough to be his obnoxious, smarmy self. She knew that her town and everyone she knew would be better off without Damon; hell, she couldn't even forgive him for anything he'd done. He had no excuse. But the Damon she had gotten to know tonight – the caring, personable, relaxed Damon – was a person she felt like she'd known for ages, and she couldn't help but think that the world would be a little less bright without him.

As they rode home together in the early hours of the morning, Elena's tired mind began wandering in circles.

"So, why did you bring me with you?" She asked curiously, wondering why he bothered to chauffeur his little brother's girl around in the first place.

"You're not the worst company in the world, Elena. You should give yourself more credit," he said, his voice mock-serious. Elena rolled her eyes at his response.

"Seriously?" she questioned skeptically, crossing her arms.

"Well, you were there in the road, all damsel-in-distress-like…and I knew it'd piss off Stefan," he allowed, his lips curling. Elena couldn't help but smile at his juvenile desire to push his brother's buttons, no matter how trivial the matter. She shook her head in light-hearted consternation. "And…you're not the worst company in the world, Elena," he repeated, looking at her instead of the road. There was a touch of sincerity about his eyes, and Elena leaned her head back against the seat, the smile fading.

"I used to be more fun," she said self-deprecatingly, brushing her hair to the side.

"You did okay," he assured her, this time keeping his eyes straight ahead.

Elena's eyes lit up. "I saved your life," she reminded him saucily, narrowing her eyes at him. Damon shot her a sideways glance,

"I know," he said, sounding like he didn't entirely mind.

"And don't you forget it," she said warningly; even so, she knew she would never use it against him. She was beginning to think that maybe he wasn't so bad after all. He didn't respond to this, and they both gazed out their respective windows contentedly, trying to push the thought of their reality in Mystic Falls out of their minds, clinging on to their five-minute "timeout" as long as they possibly could.

… … …

** And…cut! That's a wrap for chapter two, you guys. Scenes were from episodes "Lost Girls" (1x06), "Haunted" (1x07), and "Bloodlines" (1x11). Hope I didn't bore you. Like it or hate it, please be incredible and leave me a review either way? Reviews really are the proverbial fuel to a writer's fire, and without them, motivation goes a bit down. Every time I see a review alert in my inbox, it makes my day a little bit brighter. Huge thanks to those who reviewed last time, I think I got back to all of you personally :) Oh and one last thing – I highly encourage you all to go read **_**Angel of Mercy**_** by Lisa Olsen (our very own Mystewitch). You can find it on Amazon or Barnes and Noble's site. It's a brilliant book – I literally sat down and read the whole thing in one day because I just couldn't bring myself to stop. Well now that I've gotten that out there, thanks for reading and see you next time (I hope)!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm back! I know it's been a while, but my summer schedule is incredibly packed. Even so, sorry for the delay. I'll let you get right to it. **

… … …

The first time Elena lied to Damon, she regretted it the moment the words left her lips.

She and Damon had been buzzing around the kitchen, completing various menial tasks, their conversation relatively light. Even so, Elena could feel a tightly-wound tension in the air, practically crackling like electricity. Then Damon, like he always did, sharply veered the conversation to a more serious topic.

"Is it real?" he asked flippantly, though he was anything but.

"Is what real?" Elena sighed, trying to feel her way around through his unpredictable conversation.

"This renewed sense of…brotherhood?" he clarified, testing his culinary creation with a wooden spoon. "Can I trust him?"

Damon's suddenly serious eyes flashed, boring into her with a look she knew could see right through her. A look she never could get past.

"Yes, you can trust him," she answered, inwardly cringing when she realized how unnatural her voice sounded. She quickly turned away, avoiding his gaze and busying herself with a placemat (it always came back to the damn placemats). When she felt the air shift around her, her body tingled at the nearness of another, and she turned to face him, unsurprised. She knew he would never let her get away with that response.

"Can I trust him?" Damon asked her again in a low voice, leaning toward her. His eyes seemed to expand, filling her vision, and she fought against losing herself in them. How dare he try to compel her? Then again, if he compelled her, she could tell him the truth and it wouldn't be her fault; it wouldn't count as a disloyalty toward Stefan. And despite her discomfort at losing her free will, for a moment she wished Damon _would_ compel her. But only for a moment.

"I'm wearing vervain, Damon. It's not gonna work," she warned him casually, wrinkling her nose.

Damon squinted at her incredulously, looking almost…disgusted. "I'm not compelling you," he told her, as if it were the most ludicrous suggestion in the world that he would even _attempt _to do so. Elena's eyebrows dropped in surprise, and she unconsciously leaned her face nearer to his, swallowing hard, somehow reassured by his answer. "I just want you to answer me – honestly." He spoke these words earnestly, with anxiety and sincerity infused into every syllable. His forehead wrinkled, and his eyes seemed to be pleading for something he always wanted but never expected to get. At his expression, Elena almost choked on her already-prepared response, her heart lurching at seeing _his _heart in his eyes. And right then, she didn't want to lie to him anymore. She didn't want to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt. She wanted him to get the one thing that really mattered to him back. She wanted to spill the whole story, to show him that he _could _trust someone – he could trust her.

But she knew she couldn't do any of things. She knew she had to lie. Lying may have been wrong, but in this big picture, it was the only right thing to do. She wasn't even sure she still believed that now, but that couldn't matter. She and Stefan had to stick together, and for Stefan – she had to lie.

"Of course you can." At her answer, Damon's expression loosened a bit, but his eyes continued to search her face, the look in her eyes – as if he didn't know what to believe. Elena knew she couldn't hide it on her face, and she quickly walked past him; she didn't want to do this any longer.

This lie cost her dearly that night in the woods, when Damon had discovered Elena and Stefan retrieving the grimoire without him; discovered that he'd been betrayed. Her heart had fallen past her stomach when she'd heard Damon's voice interrupt them from their silent, hurried digging.

"Well what do you know?" he drawled raucously, staring at them through the trees. His jaw clenched, and his head twisted to the side, as if he was literally reeling. "This is an interesting turn of events." Elena rose to her feet, staying behind Stefan.

"I can't let you bring her back," Stefan said gravely. "I'm sorry." Elena didn't hear any contrition in his voice, however, and she was sure Damon didn't either.

"So am I," Damon shot back, slowly shaking his head, "for thinking for even a second that I could trust you."

"You are not _capable_ of trust," Stefan spat back with infuriating pomposity. "The fact that you're here means that you read the journal and that you were planning on doing this yourself!"

"Of course I was gonna do it by myself because the only one I can count on is _me_!" Damon retorted, the heat in his voice laced with bitterness. "You made sure of that many years ago, Stefan," he reminded his brother, his voice calmer. "But you," Damon added, walking forward, "you had me fooled." Damon zeroed in on Elena, talking to her as if they were the only two people standing there in the dark. A lump rose in Elena's throat at his words, and she burned with shame, hating herself for having to do this to him. She couldn't bring herself to speak, and Damon, seeing this, merely shook his head at her sorrowfully.

"So what are you gonna do now?" Damon questioned, trying desperately to maintain his cool, controlled façade. "Because if you try and destroy that I'll rip her heart out."

Elena's eyes widened at his words. He had to be bluffing. She knew he was disappointed and upset with her but surely he wasn't _that…_? No… he wouldn't. Not after how far they'd come.

"You won't kill her," Stefan said calmly, assuredly. Damon raised his eyebrows, as if daring anyone to doubt him, his eyes wild.

Elena was suddenly snatched from behind, strong arms in a leather jacket wrapping tightly, recklessly around her. Her heart jumped as she felt Damon's arm fall against her collarbone, his powerful hands clutching at her shoulder. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think…couldn't struggle. Damon's bleeding wrist was suddenly forced to her lips, his hot coppery blood assaulting her tongue. She didn't want this…why was he _doing _this to her? Had she hurt him that much?

She clutched at his arm, holding on to it for dear life, even though he was the one trying to take it.

"Give me the book, Stefan," Damon threatened, holding steadfastly to Elena. "Or I'm snapping her neck, and you and I will have a vampire girlfriend."

"Let her go first," Stefan asked, his voice tense. Damon yanked his wrist from her lips, but still kept her terribly close to him, her back pressed into his chest. Her head swam, and she couldn't control her sporadic breathing.

"The book," Damon demanded ruthlessly, a wild look still blazing in his eyes.

"I'm not gonna give this to you until she is standing next to me," Stefan said resolutely.

"The problem is, I no longer _trust_ that you'll give it back," Damon growled in Stefan's face, tilting his head dangerously.

"You just did the one thing that ensures that I will," Stefan said in a low voice, and Elena was reminded why she loved the younger Salvatore so much. All she wanted, right that very second, was to be safe; and Stefan was safe. He was her refuge.

Damon looked pointedly at the ground near his feet, and Stefan slowly bent down, tossing the old witch's tome to the forest floor. He looked up expectantly, a hint of fear glinting in his earthy eyes. Damon turned his head, burying his face in Elena's hair, and when she felt his lips brush against the crown of her head – twice - her heart stopped. He slowly removed his arm from across her collarbone, and her clutching fingertips grazed the back of his hand as he withdrew it. In one final gesture, he stroked her back, his hand running down the length of her hair, almost in a caress; an apology. Her heart took up its beat again, and wildly so. A flurry of emotions skittered through her, and though fear was still strongly present at the surface, a strange sense of calm washed through her innermost being. Despite this, she trembled, tripping back into Stefan's arms and holding him as tightly as she could. She was deeply distressed – unsettled – at what has just happened, and Damon almost turning her wasn't the sole catalyst. Somehow, she knew he wouldn't have actually snapped her neck; even so, she was still appalled that he had so carelessly force-fed her his blood. Then there were still her underlying feelings of shame and pity for him – the feelings that overtook her when she saw his face the moment he realized he'd been betrayed. But what terrified her the most was the way her heart had stopped when his lips brushed her hair; when his hand brushed her fingers. Where in _hell _did that come from? It must have been a fluke – adrenaline. She had to leave, and she had to go now.

She couldn't help but wish then, with a dull ache in her chest, that she had never lied to him in the first place.

… … …

The first time Elena hugged Damon, it felt like he was breaking in her arms. Like holding him was the least she could do to keep him from falling apart.

Earlier that day, she had gone to him to reassure him that they would help him get Katherine out of the tomb. She had come away with much more than she had bargained for. She knew he still felt betrayed, and she had braced herself when she walked into the boarding house, slowly unwinding her scarf; almost stalling.

"I convinced Bonnie to help you," she offered, hoping to god that he would take it, but knowing he wouldn't let her off so easily. He valued trust more than that.

"I doubt that," he sneered, his face stony.

"I'm not saying that I'm sorry we got the grimoire without you last night, because I'm not, really," she said matter-of-factly, crossing the room. And she wasn't sorry about that; it was the backhanded way they did it that ate at her.

"Well, at least you're honest," he said, grimacing sarcastically at her.

"I was protecting the people I love, Damon," Elena reminded him, her voice hard. She remembered what Damon was trying to accomplish and why, and then softened her voice. "But so were you, in your own twisted way; and, as hard as it is to figure, we're all on the same side, after the same thing." Elena silently prayed that he would see the truth in her logic; she didn't like being on bad terms with Damon, for more reasons than one.

"Not interested," he said with a small, infuriating smirk, and Elena wanted to groan in frustration. Yet – she couldn't blame him. They had lied to him when all he wanted was someone to trust. She deserved this difficulty.

"Yes you are, because you were willing to work with us yesterday!" She reminded him desperately, throwing her hands out.

"Fool me once, shame on you," he quipped, his eyes icy, his dark head tilted toward her.

Elena tried one more time, abandoning her original argument in lieu of getting a more personal matter satisfied. "Okay, when we were in Atlanta, why didn't you use your compulsion on me?"

"Who's to say I didn't?" he said in a low voice, his tone perilous.

"You didn't," Elena protested, trying to sound completely confident in her answer. Damon shot her a skeptical look, and she continued. "I know you didn't. But you could have." She stopped, walking even closer to Damon, who still looked wary. "You and I…" she paused, freezing. What could she say? What _was _it that was going on between them? It certainly wasn't friendship; last night made that clear. And yet, when he wasn't pretending – when his walls weren't up – she was entirely comfortable around him. She _knew _him. "…we have something." Damon swallowed hard, and he seemed to be focused, to be listening to her with every fiber in his being. "An understanding," she clarified hastily, working to keep her voice calm. "And I know that my betrayal hurt you – different from how it is with you and Stefan – but, I'm promising you this now, I will help you get Katherine back." She meant the words that she spoke. She wanted to prove to him that she was in this with him – that he could still trust her.

Damon twisted his head to the side, squinting, and let out a sigh. "I wish I could believe you," he said, a note of finality edging his resigned voice.

Elena gritted her teeth, steeling herself for what she was about to do. Even after last night, not to mention the fact that she and Damon were alone in the house, she still trusted that he wouldn't do her any harm. That wasn't him…not deep down. She reached up to unclasp her vervain necklace, then set it down on the table between them. "Ask me if I'm lying now."

Damon looked down at the necklace, then back up at her, his steely eyes penetrating her very soul.

"You know Anna won't stop, by the way, no matter what I do," reminding her that he wasn't the only one who wanted the tomb open.

"Then we'll deal with it," Elena assured him, matching her tone to his. Damon's eyes locked with hers, and he reached down, snatching her necklace from the table top. He snaked his arms around her neck, returning the necklace to its rightful place, his eyes never straying from her face. Elena couldn't look away – couldn't breathe. She was seeing Damon; the real one, the vulnerable one, the one who was fiercely loyal to those who mattered – not the cold-blooded killer he pretended to be. And now, she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.

"I didn't compel you in Atlanta because we were having fun," he told her in a soft voice, breaking the heavy silence. "I wanted it to be real." Elena knew anyone else would have been shocked to hear him admit such a thing, but somehow this display of tenderness felt perfectly natural – raw – to her (and she hadn't really seen anything yet).

"I'm trusting you," he said, his voice heavy, low; his eyes still piercing through her. "Don't make me regret it." His voice grew sharper with his last few words, and with one final flash in his eyes, he walked away.

Now, after she had seen his stricken face when he couldn't find Katherine in the tomb, after she had seen his broken eyes stare at nothing, her whole heart went out to him. She didn't know why Katherine Pierce wasn't in that tomb, but she hoped to god that that woman – that monster – was dead, or worse. Katherine had done this to Damon; _she_ had made him want her badly enough to live solely to save her for the past one hundred and forty-five years. And now that he had ridden up on his white horse to save her, she couldn't bother to show. God, Elena _hated_ that woman with her whole self for breaking Damon like this. She had ruined him – nearly past redemption. But the fact that he had done everything for her, done it all for love – proved that there still was a soul in him worth redeeming. Proved that he still had humanity. And she'd be damned if she didn't help him hold on to that.

Elena rose from Stefan's side, cautiously approaching the elder Salvatore. He robotically turned toward her, his clear blue eyes entirely empty; devoid of anything – at first glance, anyhow. Upon closer inspection, however, Elena could see the blinding pain and disappointment filling his blue eyes to the brim. All of his walls, pretenses were entirely forgotten, and he stood before her like an abandoned child. Elena's throat tightened at the sight of him, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and no one standing there doubted that she meant it. She waited for Damon to return the embrace, but he never did. He could only stand there, still as stone and cold as steel. And she understood. She really did. So she just held him closer, doing her best not to let him fall.

… … …

The first time Elena was truly disappointed in Damon, she knew she was being completely irrational.

She had been deep into the search for her birth mother, and was ecstatic when she had gotten a name and a face. Her spirits dropped when she discovered that – ironically – her biological mother had been killed by a vampire. God, what _was _it with her family and vampires? All hopes of gaining a mother when her first one was lost were completely dashed. And then…

Then she had heard Damon taunting Alaric about his wife, and how she had been…_delicious. _The words hit her like a wrecking ball. He killed her. Damon had killed her _mother_. She wanted to throw up and hit something simultaneously, but did neither.

She trembled as she walked along the back of the Grill, trying to hold it together. She nearly collided with Damon, and anger bubbled up inside of her. She knew that at the time, he had no earthly idea that the woman he killed would have been the mother of a future...friend, but he killed her mother all the same. And here lately she thought that she and Damon had come so far…she knew that a misdeed from his past shouldn't ruin this now, but she couldn't help it. It was her _mother_. If he hadn't killed her, she might still have a parent living even now.

"Whoa! Easy there. Buy a ticket like everyone else," he said smoothly, his trademark smirk spreading across his face.

"Did you enjoy that, rubbing it in to Alaric Saltzman?" Elena choked, trying to steady her voice.

"What?" Damon questioned, a slightly irritated look gracing his features.

"Just as I was starting to think that there was something redeemable about you," she plowed on, shaking her head in disgust, until Stefan interrupted her.

"Elena," he pleaded, maybe even admonished. But no, Stefan couldn't stop her from saying her piece, not in a situation like this.

"Am I missing something here?" Damon asked coolly, his tone ever light and confident.

"Did I forget to mention, earlier when we were talking about my birth mother, the one that gave me up?"

Damon nodded in acknowledgement, smiling tightly.

"Her name was Isobel," Elena uttered in a downright chilling tone, and Damon's smile immediately fell from his face. He looked mildly disturbed, his eyes narrowing and roaming over her pained face.

"Go ahead," she said in a strained voice, her eyes burning with anger. "Reminisce about how you killed her." She pushed past him, not able to take it anymore, leaving before she could see the distressed look in his eyes. She turned the corner and sank down against a dark, abandoned wall, biting back tears. She had said what she wanted to, said what he deserved to hear; and yet all she wanted to do was cry and be left alone. She was hurt, disappointed, even furious at this latest piece of Damon's past that had been unearthed; but underneath it all, she mostly just wished that he'd never done it. Then she wouldn't have to push him away.

… … …

** And cut! Scenes were from "Children of the Damned" (episode 1x13), "Fool Me Once" (episode 1x14), and "A Few Good Men" (episode 1x15). We're over halfway through season one here you guys, so if you're anxious for me to get to season two, have no fear. I hope you guys liked it, and if you did, would you pretty pretty please review? Like I said before, that really is what keeps me writing. It's like goddamn Christmas morning or something to wake up to an inbox full of reviews. To those of who have been, thank you from the bottom of my heart. So, reviews = love, and thanks for reading! 'Til next chapter. **

**P.S. The beloved Miss Mystic Falls Dance should be coming up soon, so stay tuned!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm back again! Okay I know the update took me a while, but I really hope it was worth the wait. I'm off to Europe tomorrow and will be gone til the end of the month, so it'll probably be a while before I can update again. Sorry :( But anyways, here you go! I think the 3****rd**** scene is my favorite. Enjoy!**

… … …

The first time Elena saw Damon be a hero, she didn't know what to think.

Damon, the brother who'd been bound and determined to make Stefan's life a living hell since the day they turned, was taking part – _leading_ – a rescue mission for him. It stumped her, but she was glad to find something that proved her earlier statement about him having "no redeeming qualities" wrong, nevertheless. Because even though she said that, she knew it couldn't be true. She'd only said it because she knew that she _should _still be angry at Damon about the Isobel debacle, at least to keep up appearances.

She had been sitting in Damon's vintage muscle car, chewing her nails ragged while her imagination ran wild with possibilities. What if Stefan was hurt? Or worse, what if the tomb vampires had captured _both _Salvatores? As her panic neared the boiling point, she saw Damon mercifully running toward her through the pouring rain. She leaped from the car, shoving the umbrella out and met him halfway. He clasped his hand under hers on the umbrella handle, keeping it over the both of them.

"What happened? Where is he?" Elena demanded to know, her heart pounding.

"They have him. I can't get in," Damon answered grimly, rain dripping from his wet dark hair and down his face.

"Why not?" Elena asked, even though she already knew the answer; she couldn't be bothered to think straight.

"Because the woman who owns the house is compelled to not let me in," Damon answered, water splashing against his lips as he leaned in to escape the downpour.

Elena paused for a second, brainstorming irrationally. "I can get in," she said, trying to push past him.

"You're not going in there," he said firmly, holding her back by her upper arms.

"I'm going!" she exclaimed desperately, struggling against his strong grip.

"_You're not going in there," _he repeated, his voice like hot steel. She quit struggling, knowing that she would only be crossing a threshold to her death.

"Why are they doing this? What do they want with him?" She asked tiredly, worry edging her voice.

"Revenge; they want revenge," Damon answered as best as he could, his usual smirk replaced by a somber, frustrated grimace.

"We've got to do something," Elena said urgently, looking away; she was afraid of what she would see in his eyes.

"I know," he agreed, looking behind him to the spot where her eyes were resting, trying to see what she saw.

"We can't let them hurt him, we've got to get him out of there-"

"I know - _Elena_!" he interrupted heatedly, cupping the sides of her face with his hands in a spontaneous motion of comfort. For a split second, she wanted to close her eyes and lean into his touch; for him to tell her it was all gonna be okay – but he couldn't. So she merely looked back up into his frantic eyes, searching for some reassurance. "I know," he said again, watching her in return. He released her face, and she was terrified to see that he was just as scared as she was, on the inside. "But I don't know how to get him out."

But Damon, being the Damon Elena knew he could be, did find a way. He enlisted (well, maybe _blackmailed_ was a more appropriate word) Alaric to help them, but still refused to let her go in the house. He couldn't protect her, he said. Elena didn't know when protecting her had become a priority with him, but she was comforted by it just the same. No matter what had passed between them before, she somehow inherently knew she would always be safe with him. Even so, she couldn't just stand by and watch – worry about – Stefan. So she disobeyed Damon. And together, they saved him.

… … …

The first time Damon was in Elena's room, she hadn't exactly needed him there; she just wanted to talk to him. To have _someone._

"Oh good, you're here," she sighed in relief, taking comfort at the sight of him on her doorstep.

"You ask, I come; I'm easy like that," he said as he shrugged past her, grinning. Elena pointed to the stairs and motioned for him to follow, starting up the steps and pausing when she heard his mock-serious voice.

"No, Elena, I will not go to your bedroom with you," he said solemnly, his voice rising at the end almost as if he were asking a question. Elena groaned inwardly at his ridiculous doggedness to act immaturely, but suppressed a grin at the same time. She would never know where he found the ability to keep the atmosphere light in a situation like this (_this _being his brother going completely off the wall in the midst of a tomb vampire crisis). She hurried back down the stairs, grabbing his arm and practically dragging him with her.

He opened the door to her room slowly, a small smile on his face. "Ah, just like I remembered," he said devilishly, waltzing in ahead of her. Wait…remembered? Elena's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. _If he remembered, that means he'd had to have seen it before…_and Elena couldn't remember ever having him in her room. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, telling herself it wasn't important.

"Stop messing around," she muttered, not entirely sure what she was saying. She shut the door and turned to see Damon jumping into her bed, boots and all, and hugging Mr. Teddy to his chest, her favorite bear from childhood. It was almost disturbing to see such a contrasting picture before her.

"You know, did you know that your uncle has been kicking it with the founder's council?" he asked, smirking up at her with flashing eyes.

"What?" Elena asked dumbly, struck by this random piece of new information.

"Yep," he said acidly, his eyes rolling to the side.

"Perfect, we'll just add that to the growing list of how everything's falling apart," she quipped sarcastically (maybe he was starting to rub off on her).

Damon's eyes suddenly zeroed in on the corner behind her, his features clouded with a mixture of suspicion and concern. "What happened right there?" he questioned, squinting and pointing at the broken shelf with Mr. Teddy's worn arm.

"Uh, nothing," Elena supplied hastily, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. She didn't want to explain Stefan's Edward Cullen-esque loss of control during a makeout session to anyone, much less Damon. He gave her a knowing look, his icy eyes cutting through her. Feeling uncomfortable, Elena uncrossed her arms, changing the subject

"Look, Damon – I'm worried about Stefan," she threw out, dragging them back around to the original topic in concern. "He says that everything is okay, but he's clearly struggling. How long is it gonna take before he's back to normal?" Because that's what she needed: a sense of normalcy. Constancy. One part of her life that she could rely on. And Stefan had been just that – until now.

"A few days, give or take," he said, almost casually, but Elena could still hear the faint note of uncertainty in his voice.

"It's been a few days," she reminded him impatiently, nodding her head at him.

"Give then," he shot back, rolling his eyes. "What's the big deal?"

Elena's eyes widened at his carefully constructed nonchalance. "He's not himself, Damon!" He stood up and walked past her to her makeup table, shoving Mr. Teddy in her arms as he brushed by.

"Maybe his problem is he's spent too long _not _being himself," Damon observed, and Elena heard a drawer rattle open behind her. She spun around to see him pulling out one of her more colorful bras. She exasperatedly snatched it from his hands, but surprisingly was not embarrassed.

"Please don't make me sorry for asking you," she said slowly, staring him down out of the corners of her eyes.

"It is what it is, Elena," he said matter-of-factly, snatching a photo from the frame of her mirror and turning away. "The Stefan you know was good-behavior Stefan. Rein-it-in Stefan, fight-against-his-nature-to-an-annoyingly-obsessive-level Stefan. But if you think there's not another part of this then you-" he leaned very near to her face, pursing his lips, "have not been paying attention."

Elena snatched the photo from him. "He's not you, not even close," she said, meaning it in ways she probably shouldn't.

"Well, he doesn't want to be me," Damon amended from behind her, his voice slowly drawing closer. She turned to face him, and saw his eyes gently blazing under his serious brow. His voice grew softer as he finished speaking. "But that doesn't mean that deep down, he's not." Elena didn't respond to this, and with a final penetrating glance, he left her. Elena's skin crawled as a part of her realized that he might be right. Stefan could be wild and dangerous deep down, for all she knew. But then – she didn't truly believe Damon was completely wild and dangerous deep down, either. And there was no way that Stefan could be the darker of the brothers. No way in hell. Was there? She didn't know what to believe, but she wouldn't dare think such a thing. She knew Stefan – and he _couldn't _be that way. He was going to get better, she would make sure of it; and Damon was going to be right there by her side along the way.

… … …

The first time Elena danced with Damon, her world stopped turning.

She had already been nervous about the pageant. She knew she didn't belong in the world of beauty queens, and she didn't want to be there. And then Damon had gone and told her, serious as a heart attack, that Stefan was still binging on human blood and keeping it from her. She couldn't breathe; she couldn't go through with the dance. It seemed so trivial in the midst of this mounting crisis, and she was tired of putting her brave face on. But she was doing this for her mother. So she plastered a grin on her face and headed for the stairwell, scanning the crowd for Stefan. She didn't see him, so she backed away, praying that he was just hidden by the staircase. She heard her name called, and she squared her shoulders, maintaining her tight smile with some effort. As she rounded the bend in the curving stairwell, she looked below to see a lone escort clad in a tux, looking awkwardly back up at her.

Stefan wasn't there.

Her heart dropped precariously, a sickening wave swooping through her stomach. What could he possibly be doing to miss this? She felt the smile fall from her face uncontrollably as humiliation burned in her cheeks. Suddenly, Damon was in her line of sight, sidestepping to the foot of the stairs to take Stefan's place. He looked up at her with smoldering eyes, taking his brother's position seamlessly. Elena was shocked at the gesture, but was grateful nonetheless. As she descended toward him, a small voice in the back of her mind couldn't help but observe that his presence put the other, more prepared escort to shame. Damon gave her a small, helpless crook of his lips as he held his hand out to her.

"Where's Stefan?" she whispered, doubting he would know. She slipped her hand into his, and her shoulders lost some of their tension as she unconsciously relaxed in his grasp, as if he were a stronghold of safety.

"I don't know," he whispered back as he smoothly led her into the courtyard, never faltering. As they took their places, Elena could feel hundreds of eyes on her. Ever since her parents had died, she had grown to hate attention, and she looked at Damon, focusing on his face and trying to drown everyone else out. He dropped her hand and turned to stand across from her. He glanced from side to side, checking his surroundings, then looked back down at her as the music began to play.

"What are we going to do?" she asked him as they stepped toward each other in the first move of the dance.

"Right now we just have to get through this," Damon muttered from the corner of his mouth as they bowed to each other. Then, perfectly on cue, Damon lifted his hand to mirror hers, and they slowly circled each other, keeping eye contact. Elena was thankful that he knew this dance (hell, probably even danced it at the original Founder's parties), and they glided through the first steps with ease. But then he wouldn't stop looking at her, and she couldn't rip her eyes away. She lifted his hand to almost meet his again, and the small distance of air between them was singing with electricity. The music swelled, and Damon's strong hand went to her waist, pulling her in as they finally touched. Elena rested her hand on his shoulder, gazing intently into his eyes, spellbound. He held her as if she were priceless, fragile; he held her almost reverently, and in his eyes there was an unusually tender warmth. A comforting, warm wave washed over her, and a tiny smile graced her lips as she forgot the rest of the world while they danced.

And then, somewhat unconsciously, he smiled back, his face tilting nearer to hers. They were breathing each other's air as they danced, and Elena felt almost intoxicated with his nearness, this side of him that she rarely saw but fiercely adored. The world had stopped, and they were dancing; and just for a small moment in time, she felt like everything was going to be okay. But then the music began to slow, and Damon released his hold on her, stepping back as the dance ended. When his hands left her, the world came crashing back down. She remembered that Stefan was blood-crazed, missing, and here she was, waltzing around with his brother. But even as her mind clouded over with trouble once more, she held Damon's eyes, feeling that the world would go to pieces if she looked away. Under her worries, she felt a slow-burning, sparking warmth within her, and she was mesmerized to find the same fire flickering back at her from his ice-blue eyes.

That night - after they had locked a vervain-loaded Stefan up and she had settled down onto the cold, unforgiving cellar floor - when Damon wearily slid down across from her, still wearing his tux from earlier, Elena went weak with relief as she realized something: Damon wasn't going anywhere.

… … …

** That's a wrap for a while now! The scenes were from the episodes "Let the Right One In" (1x17), "Under Control" (1x18), and "Miss Mystic Falls (1x19, a.k.a. one of my favorite episodes in the history of the show). I'm gonna try to maintain a shred of dignity here and not beg for reviews, because I've realized it won't do me any good. But if you enjoy this and want me to continue, or have any scene suggestions, I would love it if you would be so kind and leave me a few words. That's all I'll say there. And for those of you who don't remember, the part where Damon said "Just like I remembered" in Elena's room and she got confused, he was referring to the time back in early season one where he sneaked into her room and was stroking her cheek (first show of affection from him, like, ever). There you have it. See you guys again as soon as I can!**


	5. Chapter 5

**…Surprise? Sorry for the long wait between chapters, everyone :( I was out of the country, and then jetlag happened, and then my laptop died…it was terrible. What can go wrong, will go wrong, eh? I'll just cut to the chase and let you read. **

… … …

The first time Elena realized that Damon cared for her, she couldn't handle it. Hell, it took a declaration from her estranged vampire mother to make her even think of it. Then again, perhaps some part of her had known – some part of her tucked deeply away that she tried to hide from even her own mind – that she had become something more to Damon than a Katherine-look-a-like. What else could explain the way he protected her when they rescued Stefan; how he danced with her at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant – how he had only handed over the device that could destroy vampires because he trusted _her, _and her alone. Maybe she had known – but she couldn't bring herself to face what it meant. Until now.

"But you took a risk with Damon – how did you know he was gonna give it to me?" she asked Isobel that night in the town square, scrambling for any answers she could get.

"Because he's in love with you," she answered unflinchingly, a smirk infused in her languid voice. Elena's gaze involuntarily shot to Damon, whose eyes shifted to the side somewhat uncomfortably, for once not enjoying the spotlight. Isobel held out her hand demandingly, and Elena shook herself internally, her mind hurdling rudely back to the conflict at hand. She slapped the device into Isobel's hand, suddenly furious at the excess havoc her biological mother had wreaked in her already impossible life.

"Thank you," she snarled, shaking her head unconsciously.

"For what?" Isobel asked impudently, her dull black eyes rolling.

"For being such a monumental disappointment," Elena said resignedly, shrugging her shoulders. "It keeps the memory of my real mother perfectly intact." As she voiced the insult, Elena suddenly wanted to cry at the complete disaster that lay before her. At the reality that her real mother's shoulder wasn't there for her to lay her head on, while her bitch of a vampire, natural mother thrived mercilessly. But Elena was strong. She always had been, and she couldn't quit now, with so much going on – with so much at stake.

"Goodbye, Elena," Isobel bid her, almost robotically. "As long as you have a Salvatore on each arm, you're doomed." Elena's eyes flickered toward Stefan and Damon long enough to see the confused, indignant look gracing both of their faces in the semi-darkness. "Katherine was smart; she got out." Isobel paused, smiling to herself. "But we all know that you're not Katherine." She pushed past her slowly, walking away nonchalantly with her two followers close behind. Elena turned away, staring into space, her jaw working as she struggled against the tears. She heard shuffling footsteps behind her, and immediately knew it was Stefan; Damon had more of a light, purposeful gait. Stefan drew her into his arms, and she didn't resist; she needed to bury herself in someone else right now – to have someone else smother away the gloomy thoughts that echoed through her mind. She raised her head from Stefan's shoulder, searching for the other brother, and found him staring back at her, his eyes like tightly-guarded flames. Isobel's words reverberated through her body, and she saw the truth of her words in his eyes. And she was tired – so tired of everything. So she didn't think about it. She just turned her face back down, pressing it into Stefan's chest, and closed her eyes. She would think about this later. Or never, maybe. But even with her eyes closed, she could still feel his eyes burning though her, every wave of heat reminding her of what she had been told. She only opened her eyes again when she heard him walk away, and was surprised to feel a strange hollowness within her when he was finally gone.

… … …

The first time Elena said she hated Damon, she was broken inside.

She'd just finished up her nightly routine, exhausted from the ludicrous chaos of the day (of her life), and he'd just been sitting there on the edge of her bed, his eyes lost, his expression that of a beaten dog. She hadn't expected any of it.

"You scared me," she muttered unnecessarily, staring at him in confusion.

"Just doing my part in the neighborhood watch," he slurred dejectedly, not looking up. Dread thudded low in Elena's stomach at his voice. She'd never heard him sound so down, so lifeless – not even in his darker hours after he learned of Katherine's real fate.

"Thanks," she stuttered, circling the bed and glancing back at him. "For looking out for us – for me," she amended, sincerely grateful for his presence at this point in the game.

"That's me," Damon sighed, still staring straight ahead. "Trusty bodyguard; calm in crisis," He remarked, all the usual snapping and lilting gone from his low, gravelly voice.

Elena's brows knit together, stunned by his pitiful demeanor. "Have you been drinking?"

He finally lifted one eye to look at her, holding up his thumb and forefinger and pinching them near each other in a childish manner, attempting to demonstrate how much bourbon he'd abused before he'd shown up there.

"And you're upset – that's not a good combination," Elena observed, her mind racing with possibilities of whatever the hell it was that had brought him so low. And his face – he looked so utterly downtrodden, so defeated, so – miserable, that she couldn't suppress the burning desire to make it all better.

"No, I'm not upset,' he protested, his voice cracking. "Upset is an emotion specific to those who care."

"Come on, Damon. That's a lie. You care," she said gently, her eyes lingering on his slumping shoulders – shoulders that were usually so straight and upright with impossible self-confidence and grace.

At last he turned to look at her full on, and the pain in his shadowy face leveled her, shook her to the core.

"You're surprised that I thought you would kiss me back?" He asked plaintively, his voice clouded with the effects of excess alcohol. "You can't _imagine _that I'd believe that you'd want to?" His eyes implored her, begging for answers to more than just the question he'd spoken aloud.

"Damon-" Elena interrupted hurriedly, knowing that they were treading on dangerous grounds – grounds she didn't trust herself to be on.

"That what we're doing here _means_ something?" he continued, barreling head on toward the subject that Elena had merely tiptoed around in her own mind, to afraid to linger over it. All she could do was stand there staring at his lost, hurt face, trying to gain some semblance of a rational thought that she could actually voice.

"You're the liar, Elena," he said tensely, almost angrily now. "There is something going on between the two of us and you know it-" he stood up, closing the distance between them in one step. All of the breath left Elena's body then; the combination of his nearness and his words was lethal. "-And you're lying to me, and you're lying to Stefan, and most of all you're lying to yourself." he said assuredly, and Elena knew somehow that this wasn't just the bourbon talking anymore. But then – "I can prove it." And he suddenly took the sides of her face in his hands, holding her securely as his determined lips found hers. Elena froze, forcing herself to shut down, refusing to give in to whatever this was. She pushed her hands against his collarbone and managed to hold him off, if only by a few inches.

"Damon, don't!" she pleaded insistently, trying to stay afloat in the situation and not drown in his sorrowful, broken eyes. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, fighting not to close her eyes as he brushed his hands down the length of her hair.

"Lie about this," he dared her breathlessly, his worn face searching hers for something he desperately needed to find.

Elena threw out her hand again in a panic as he tried to move closer. "Stop it; you're better than this, come on!" Her voice rose, and she felt herself losing control of the devastating scene unfolding in front of her.

"That's where you're wrong," he said dully, trying to force himself closer to her yet again.

"No, no, no, Damon – I care about you, listen to me, I _care _about you! I do!" He folded her hands within his, crossing them against his chest and holding on to her like she was the only lifeline left in the sea. Elena felt her throat close up at the sight of him – not the sight of a vampire, but of a lost, devastated, lonely, achingly beautiful man – and hated herself for what she knew she had to say. "But I love Stefan – it's always gonna be Stefan!" Then Elena did feel the tears well up as she saw all of the hope leave his eyes, saw his shoulders sag, and his face nearly crumple. The words tasted bitter as they left her mouth, and she would've given anything in the world to have been able to tell him something different. But she had to deny him. She had to tell him that it would always be Stefan, because if she could get him to believe it, maybe she could believe it too.

"Elena, what's going on in here?" Jeremy's voice suddenly sounded from the doorway, shattering the moment between them like a fallen wine glass, held so delicately then suddenly dropped. Elena jerked her hands out of Damon's grasp, aching at the shocked despondency that he had suddenly fallen into.

"Nothing, Jeremy; it's okay, just – just go back to bed," she ordered, flustered and not able to meet anyone's eyes.

"No it's not okay, Elena," Damon suddenly spoke up, turning to examine her brother with wild eyes. "He wants to be a vampire." A cold spike of fear shot down Elena's spine. She recognized the detached tone, and the wide, wild eyes that belied his coolness; he was hurt, and he was about to do something rash. Then, faster than she could blink, he had Jeremy by the neck, holding him mercilessly up against the wall.

"No, Damon, stop it!" she cried, her heart in her throat, shaking with terror. She couldn't take this – not now. But she couldn't move – all she could do was look on in horror.

"Want to shut off the pain?" Damon asked manically, holding Jeremy even tighter. "It's the easiest thing in the world! The part of you that cares, it just goes away! All you have to do is flip the switch and _snap_!" and with his final word, he reached up, twisting Jeremy's head to the side with a sickening crunch.

"_Damon_!" Elena gasped, scrambling for air. When she saw her brother limply hit the floor, she screamed. She dropped down next to him, positively wrecked with shock, and her world stopped turning. Her brother – _his neck _– and now he was going to be a – a – she couldn't even think it. She couldn't think at all. Disbelief paralyzed her except for the uncontrollable sobs that wracked her numb body. She looked up at _him_, who was standing there, sobered, looming over her from the doorway. His face had turned to stone; his broken eyes had turned to ice – cold, hard, and emotionless. His jaw tightened, something akin to regret flashing in his features for a nanosecond - and then he was gone.

Elena thought she would split in two, break from the magnitude of emotional distress – and then she saw the ring.

Later, when Stefan was with her, as they were waiting for Jeremy to wake up, she spoke about the other Salvatore in a way that she never had before.

"There's nothing good about him," she whispered shakily, holding her brother against her chest. "Stefan, not anymore. He's decided what he wants. He doesn't want to feel, he just wants to be hated, it's easier that way." Her voice broke as she went on, the fissure in her heart deepening with every sentence. "He got his wish," she said darkly, nodding absently to herself. "I hate him, Stefan," she said, tears thickening her voice even as she thought the words. Because maybe, right then, they were true. She hated what he had done to her; to Jeremy. But somewhere deep inside her, she hated herself even more. Because no matter how much she ought to mean those words, she knew she never really could.

… … …

The second time Elena saved Damon's life, she didn't know why the hell she did it. All she knew was that she couldn't let him die.

She knew that she should have let Bonnie burn him to ashes, liked he deserved. She knew that all too well. He was trying to kill one of her best friends. He had _snapped_ _her brother's neck_, Goddamnit. She should want him dead more than anyone in the world. But she didn't. Instead, she found herself defending him.

"Bonnie, it wasn't his fault!" Elena didn't know what she was doing, but seeing Damon being tortured would never sit well with her, no matter what she said. No matter how she disliked him. She didn't want him – shouldn't have him – in her life anymore, but that didn't mean that she wanted him to _stop living_. She would never want that.

Then she saw the fire. She pleaded for Bonnie to stop, absolutely begged; but Bonnie's crazed eyes were somewhere else, and Elena knew she wouldn't stop. And when Damon caught fire, and Elena heard his cries – the cries of someone burning alive – she panicked. She couldn't this happen. Not at the hands of Bonnie; not at the hands of anyone. In that brief moment of fear, he was _her _Damon once again. The Damon who understood her. The Damon who danced with her. The Damon who always had a witty comment to lighten the mood. The Damon who wanted it to be real. The Damon she had saved in Atlanta. The Damon she was going to save again right now.

Elena ran at the wall of fire, hurdling over it and praying to god that she cleared the flames. She pushed against Bonnie with all of her body strength, and went weak with relief when she saw that the spell had been broken.

"Why did you stop me?" Bonnie cried furiously, tears streaking her haggard face.

_Because I could more easily burn myself alive than watch him die._

Elena shook herself internally, trying to shove down the unbidden, alarming response that had suddenly bubbled up inside her.

"Because this isn't us!" she supplied instead, going the ethical route. "Bonnie, this can't be us!" She held her friend tightly, dragging her away from the scene before anymore damage could be done.

Before she had to admit to caring as much as she actually did.

… … …

** That's a wrap, folks! This time I took scenes from "Isobel" (1x21), "The Return" (2x01), and "Brave New World" (2x02). We've finally hit season 2! And I swear to god, I still can't watch the scene featured in the second blurb of this post without tearing up. It just gets to me. Anyways, sorry for the wait again, but hope it was still worth the read. I noticed reviews were up last chapter, and it was absolutely thrilling! Thank you all so much! Could everyone out there reading this be amazing and review this time around, too? I'm so grateful for every one. Oh, and we're down to a little over a month until TVDS3! Praise god, don't think I could make it much longer. Thanks for reading! **


	6. Chapter 6

** This feels like a walk of shame of sorts :O I'm so SO sorry I didn't post sooner, but I've been so swamped I've barely had time to sleep, much less write. I hope I've made up for it at least a little bit by including some pretty great scenes in this chapter? I guess we'll see. **

… … …

The first time Elena tried to permanently take Damon out of her life, She knew it wouldn't stick.

"Road trips work well for us," Damon piped up energetically, rounding the corner of Elena's porch behind her.

"This doesn't mean that things are back to the way they used to be, Damon," Elena sighed, wishing with all her might that none of this ever happened, and that things were like they used to be. But he snapped her brother's neck. And she couldn't (wouldn't) just forget that.

"Oh, come on," he said teasingly, quickly closing the distance between them. "You know I chipped a little bit off of your wall of hatred." His tone was light, but she could feel the anxiety radiating off him in hot waves.

She couldn't let them continue this way. She was suffocating from what was unspoken, what was undone, and she couldn't stand it anymore. They had almost always been real with each other, and that was one thing she wouldn't allow to be changed.

"I need to know the truth," she said, suddenly turning and fixing her eyes upon his tense face. "When you broke Jeremy's neck, did you know that he was wearing the ring?" Elena was inwardly shocked at how calmly she could speak of her brother's almost-demise.

Elena could see the change in his face – the furrowing of his brow, the tilt of his head, the fear and pain in his magnificent eyes – and she already knew the answer.

"No," he finally managed to say, his voice oddly tight. "No, I didn't. Katherine _really_ pissed me off, (Elena felt that this was an understatement, given his degree of reaction, but not knowing the circumstances, she kept quiet) and I – I snapped, and I-" Elena ached as she watched him struggle to speak before her. She hated seeing him so artless, so unlike himself, and for a moment, she believed she could forgive him. But she knew what she had to say, even after he found the words. "I got lucky with the ring. I don't know what I would've done if he wasn't wearing it." She could hear the guilt permeate his voice, and it made her want to crumble, to hold him, but she remained stoic.

"Elena," he began, his voice soft, reverent at her name, "I'm sorry." He nodded, his voice husky, laden with sincerity, worry – worry that what he was saying wouldn't make a difference. Elena swallowed a lump in her throat, because she knew it didn't.

"Thank you for being honest with me," she choked out after a long pause, trying to keep her voice even. "And the answer to your question, about our friendship?" She almost changed her next words right then and there at the wounded, hopeful expression that ran deep in his eyes, an expression that tore at her heart – but he'd gone too far this time. No one could expect her to just forgive and forget. It would never be right. "It's yes. You have lost me forever." She saw the pain sear through his eyes before he wiped his expression blank, fixing her with a cool gaze.

"But you knew that already, didn't you?" he asked tonelessly, his face a beautiful mask. "You used me today." The truth of his words stung Elena, and she could hardly bring herself to look him in the eye.

"You had information about Katherine that I needed to know," she admitted, and this answer was partially true. But a bigger, more selfish part of Elena had been through this today with him because she just wanted one last day in his company before she had to do the inevitable; before she had to cut him out of her life – before he could hurt anyone else she loved.

"I thought friends don't manipulate friends," he reminded her smoothly, a note of indignance in his gravelly voice. Elena couldn't respond to this. He had thrown her words in her face, just like he'd thrown himself in front of that arrow for her. She was speechless as she remembered the excruciating pain cross his face as he leaned over her, taking an arrow to the back for her without a second's thought. This made her want to cry even more, so she merely remained silent, staring up into his face and trying to forget his betrayed feelings.

"You and Katherine have a _lot _more in common than just your looks," he finally sneered, the old look of a wounded wild animal back in his eyes. He leveled her with one last icy glance before he finally turned away, striding down the porch steps and disappearing into the night. Stunned, all she could do was watch him go, a lump rising in her throat. He knew exactly what to say, what would sting her the most, and she fought back tears that had been a long time coming. All she wanted to do in that moment was run out into the night, find him, and prove how much he really did mean to her – prove that this hurt her as much as it hurt him. But she had to be strong, and what she had done was for the best. For everyone. She stayed frozen on the porch, bathed in the soft lamplight, for a few more minutes before finally trudging inside and stumbling to her room. Numbly, she collapsed on the bed, the world around her fading. It was as if she had gone blind, and the only thing she could still see was a pair of endless blue eyes – eyes that were lost to her.

… … …

The first time that Elena wanted to run to Damon's arms instead of Stefan's, it just wasn't meant to be.

She was tired, aching, anxious – the wait for a rescue had seemed to stretch on forever. She nearly cried with relief when she saw Damon pin Elijah to the door with the wooden post (she hadn't really known Elijah then; all she knew was that she wanted to go home, and he was stopping her). She stood at the top of the stairs, gazing down on the scene in wonder, no longer fearing for her life, and when Damon advanced toward the hall to go after Rose, Elena realized in a panic that she didn't want him out of her sight.

"Just let her go," she called down to him, hoping he would heed her plea and stay with her. He halted at the foot of the stairs, staring up, fixing her with an earnestly relieved but somewhat disoriented look. Elena couldn't help but heave a shaky sigh and look right back, drinking in the light of his wondrous eyes. A faint smile tugging at her lips, she barreled down the stairs to him, wanting to throw her arms around him and let him hold her, protect her, make her feel safe again. Because despite all of his brash recklessness, she knew he didn't do something if he didn't mean it, and he'd come with Stefan to save her with thoughtless abandon. Salvatore. As in savior. And he was hers.

As she hurdled down toward him, an expression crossed his face that she'd never seen before – a genuine, almost beatific smile – and it transformed his entire face. It was the first time Elena understood the expression that someone's smiling face "shone", and it was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. She smiled back, and as she neared the last few steps, something interrupted her line of sight, blocking her from him.

Stefan.

Elena's heart gave a great lurch, and her stomach plummeted as Stefan held his arms out to her. Of course it was Stefan – she loved _him_, was with _him,_ and _his_ arms were the ones she should be falling into. And really, she had no choice. So she did.

When she threw her arms around Stefan's neck, she closed her eyes, burying her face in his shoulder. She didn't want to (_couldn't_) look at Damon's face; she knew the crestfallen, broken look in his eyes would make her break too. Her heart throbbed, and when she finally thought she could maintain her composure, she peered up at him. By now his face was changed to an unreadable expression, and she could have chalked him up to indifference if she couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. She knew she couldn't extricate herself from Stefan to go to Damon – that would be wrong for too many reasons to count. But to her, it felt like the only thing that would be right.

She felt horribly inadequate as she mouthed a feeble "thank you" in his direction, and she felt doubly worse when he sent back a solemn, tight-lipped "you're welcome". The downhearted, despondent shadow lingered over his features, and eaten up by guilt, Elena buried her face into Stefan's neck; she couldn't help but feel empty – like she'd found something beautiful and let it drop.

… … …

The first time Elena heard Damon say he loved her, he took it away from her.

She had been nearly dead on her feet as she padded into her bedroom, fully planning on collapsing on the bed and staying there for a very long time, when she heard his voice.

"Cute pj's," came his voice from the opposite side of the room, and she stopped dead in her tracks, startled not only by his presence but also his air of…nervousness. He was fidgeting. Damon never fidgets. Elena's foggy, sleep-deprived mind suddenly sharpened, and she wondered what the hell was going on.

"I'm tired, Damon," she said feebly, trying to ward him off; she couldn't handle anything else important. Not tonight. He stood up and walked toward her, slowly, like he didn't want to scare her off. Hell, like he didn't want to scare himself off.

"I brought you this," he said, his tone failing to retain any semblance of lightness whatsoever, as he held up a small, dangling silver object.

Her necklace.

"I thought that was gone," she said, surprised to see it at all, much less have him return it to her himself. At this hour. He merely gave his head a slight shake, his eyes immutably sorrowful for some reason.

"Thank you," Elena breathed, stretching her hand out to retrieve the prized possession. Warning signals sounded in her head when he pulled it back out of her reach, his eyes growing even more mournful (if that was possible).

"Please give it back," she asked, unease creeping into her tired, cracking voice.

"I just have to say something," he announced after a brief pause, and Elena sucked in a shaky breath.

"Why do you have to say it with my necklace?" she questioned suspiciously, her eyebrows inching slightly upward.

He frowned. "Well…because what I'm about to say is probably one of the most selfish things I've ever said in my life," he supplied, almost sounding disbelieving of himself.

A click resounded in Elena's exhausted mind, and she was afraid. She couldn't listen to this – not after she realized how she wanted to run to him today instead of Stefan, not after he saved her life – she was afraid of what she might do in response. "Damon, don't go there."

"No, I just have to say it once, you just need to hear it," he almost pleaded, his hands spread wide toward her as he stepped closer. Elena suddenly thought that it felt as if the air had been vacuumed out of her room, leaving just the two of them there together, frozen. Alone. But she didn't feel trapped. No, not at all.

Damon leaned down so that his face was inches from hers, and the space between the two of them nearly hummed with electricity. He gave a slight nod, as if he was so convicted with what he was about to say that he was trying to find other ways to acknowledge it, and then he opened his mouth to speak.

"I love you, Elena."

If Elena had thought that the world stopped turning when the two of them dance, she had severely underestimated the mere power of Damon's words. She was rooted to the spot, and she felt what he said strongly that she knew that the two of them must be connected, somehow. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move – all she could do was stare up into his eyes, stricken with awe.

"And it's because I love you that I can't be selfish with you," he continued, his voice falling to an arresting whisper. Elena thought that love could never be more beautiful than when it was in his eyes. She felt her throat closing up, and she knew her eyes must have been shining with tears. How must he be taking her muteness? But she couldn't trust herself to speak. She didn't even know where to begin, where words were concerned.

"-Why you can't know all this," he whispered, his head tilting to the side, as if weighed down by sadness. "I don't deserve you," he said, his voice threatening to crack. "But my brother does."

Elena was spellbound. She'd never been so affected by such devastating emotion in her life, and she couldn't utter a word even if she tried. She continued to gaze up at him, nearly drowning in his eyes. She started when he leaned even closer, his lips gently brushing her forehead. She had been tilting her face to his, practically welcoming a kiss, but quickly caught herself when she realized he had something more chaste in mind.

"God, I wish you didn't have to forget this," he whispered almost painfully, and she leaned into his touch as he held the side of her face. Wait…forget? What was he saying? Her heart plummeted at the idea of not being able to keep this moment within her. "But you do," he murmured at last, a single tear rolling down his face. Elena vaguely thought that an angel could not be more beautiful if it cried. She wanted to hold on to him, to bring back the glorious smile she'd seen early on his face, but she was at a loss. If only she could tell him…

But then she could feel the pull of something otherworldly tugging on her consciousness, and in the split second before she succumbed to it, she realized what he was doing. He was making her forget, so she wouldn't be caught in a compromising situation between the brothers. But after everything that had happened, in that last second, he was the only brother she wanted…but then the moment was gone.

… … …

**That's it for this time! Scenes were from episodes "Bad Moon Rising" (2x03) and "Rose" (2x08). I really am so sorry I got so behind on this, but I honestly haven't had a chance to post until now. Please let me know that you're still out there and leave me a review! Oh and if there's a particular scene you want to see written from the episodes I haven't covered in season 2, please let me know. I'm totally open to suggestions. On the bright side, the wait is finally over for season 3! I'm trying not to think about it or I'll get too impatient. If you've made it this far, thanks so much for still reading! Until the next (more timely) post. **


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